


La Folie À Plusieurs

by calculatedchaos



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Parents, Canon Related, Childhood Trauma, Dark, Dark Magic, Death Eater Trials, Death Eaters, Domestic Fluff, Durmstrang Institute, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enemies to Lovers, Enemy Lovers, Established Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Everyone Is Gay, First War with Voldemort, Found Family, Friends to Enemies, Fuck JK Rowling, Gen, Graphic Description, Heavy Angst, Horcrux Creation, Horcruxes, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Torture, Manipulation, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Mild Gore, Morbid, Multi, Murder, Near Death, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pain, Parental Issues, Possible Character Death, Psychological Torture, Rivalry, Sibling Rivalry, Slow Burn, Smoking, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Torture, Trauma, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, Violence, Walburga Black Bashing, Young Death Eaters, new magic system
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:28:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29603868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calculatedchaos/pseuds/calculatedchaos
Summary: “I’ll get my revenge soon enough and get to see the look on his face when I make him suffer the pain he inflicted on me and others.”“And then what?” Reg joked, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as they threw themselves down on the couch.“Then, we kill him. With spells he doesn’t even dream of existing.”. . .When Regulus decides to transfer to Durmstrang Institute halfway through his 4th year, to run from his life and reality, he doesn't know exactly to expect. There, he meets his childhood friend Lyre and the darker face of truth while trying to do his best to learn what's necessary to resist (and hopefully, stop) the Dark Lord.Longfic and not exactly canon compliant since I changed the magic system and added to the world building. It gets dark, so.Read the additional tags for trigger warnings, take careIn progress with weekly updates.DO NOT REPOST ELSEWHERE
Comments: 14
Kudos: 5





	1. I. The Ghost Ship

**Author's Note:**

> Spotify:  
> \- La Folie À La Plusieurs: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5aXZ16Raw4TbZFgUOaRdQO?si=462a6c8d095940ff  
> \- Regulus Arcturus Black: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/674BZTCji1HyhZqB10v13E?si=ca95006fc6fa4061  
> \- Lyre Achlys Lestrange: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2xXl7ekFVXxFHkb4A19bNA?si=825f54448f304385

“Are you sure about this?” Walburga asked for what felt like the nth time, clutching her youngest so close to her chest her nails dug onto his shoulders. As much as she was proud of her son choosing to study at a school were her ideals were preached, she refused to let him go, to lose him. “We won’t be disappointed if you give up now, Arcturus.”

  
Orion caught his son’s desperate eyes, his body cringing from the pain under his mother’s claws. The man forced his eyes shut, focusing on the waves nearby while pushing a cigarette onto his lips and lighting it with a snap of his fingers. He threw his head back slightly, lips parted as bitter, blissful smoke danced out of it and into the air. His free hand landed on his wife’s lower back. To most, it looked gentle and normal, a gesture any husband would do to show his wife silent support. From him, with the warmness of his hand and touch that felt as piercing as the sharpest knives, it was a warning. Collect yourself, it said.

  
Walburga straightened her back almost immediately, hands leaving her boy as if he was made of acid and the sheer touch burned her skin. She turned to her husband too quickly, hands moving to snitch his cigarette and bringing to her own lips arrogantly as he sighed and lighted another one for himself. Anything was better than arguing with his wife in public, as empty as the dock was.

  
“Say goodbye to your brother, Sirius.” He ordered his oldest, who threw the end of a cigarette onto the sea. Orion’s eyes wrinkled on the side as the rebellious boy turned to him, harsh gaze making the boy hurry besides his younger brother. “And be brief. We’ll wait at the car.”

  
The couple turned away and didn’t mind turning back, walking as if repelled by each other, on opposite ends of the wooden bridge. They both threw their cigarettes at the sea and entered the car before the two brothers turned to each other.

  
Sirius’ pulled his brother into his arms, squeezing him tightly against his chest. The two remained silent while enjoying each other’s presence and warmth before pulling away, emerald eyes focusing on the approaching ship. It’s appearance carried a thick fog with it, water barely moving under it’s ghostly touch. Regulus pulled on the back of his hair while shifting his gaze towards his expensive shoes, the pain soothing and making his shoulders relax a bit.

  
“Can’t believe you’re fucking leaving me with those two. Bloody hell, don’t be surprised if you get an invitation to my funeral in some weeks.” Sirius pushed his brother, watching his body sway back with a playful smirk. “Traitor.”

  
“Oh, shut it. You won’t even realise I’m gone.” Reg laughed while pushing his brother away, rolling his eyes when the eldest feigned pain and to stumble away. He studied his brother’s every feature and movement as if he didn’t think they would ever meet again. “Besides, we both know you’ll be at Hogwarts all the time I’m gone. You’ll have your friends and fame, free from mother and father.”

  
Six hummed, nodding with his head tilted slightly, as if a thought troubled him. His hand landed heavy on this brother’s shoulder and squeezed it for reassurance.

  
“I will miss you. And write, will you? I want to know if it’s all like mother expects.”

  
They shared a laugh as the ship landed at the end of the platform, forcing them silent as if a spell had fallen on them. On the edge of it, they could see a girl with her hand griping the rope of the ripped flag doted with Durmstrang’s logo as she leaned away from the edge. The brothers shared a look, eyebrows raised.

  
“Lestrange?” Sirius whispered, as his brother nodded. “Interesting.”

  
Regulus shrugged it off as he hugged his brother a last time and used his wand to levitate his case onto the ghost ship before climbing onto it. As he reached the edge, a hand was offered to him. He took it without hesitation, being pulled into the ship and glancing up the familiar face. The mismatching violet and black eyes, scar running deep from above the eyebrow down to the cheekbones of the left side. His lips slowly curved upwards, his hand extending to the figure.

  
“Regulus Black.” The short girl greeted, the northern accent fighting the english one. She hand wrapped around his with ice cold touch. “Can barely believe my eyes.”

  
“I could say the same, Lyre Lestrange. Although, last time I saw you was barely six months ago.” He teased, earning a laugh from her.

  
“Is it a crime to miss your childhood friend?” She sat back at the edge, waving down at Sirius before he returned the gesture and walked towards his parents.’ impatient honking car.

  
“Not at all.” His back resting against the rope and her hand, arms crossed and a teasing grin on his lips before she shoved him to the side. Regulus looked down as the boat shifted. “It’s great to have the opportunity to meet your world. Maybe you’ll meet mine one day.”

  
Lyre nodded, her fingers tightening around the rope as her eyes focused on the horizon. The moonlight seemed to bless her skin as it enlightened it slightly. It was odd to see her in uniform but branding his Hogwarts's colours. All dark green trousers and turtle-neck, brown leather combat boots and belt. Her feet landed on the ship with dead noise as she signed with her head for him to follow her.

  
She led him down a set of barely lit stairs, each step leading them closer to a soft murmur. As they hit the end, the softly lit room engulfed them. Multiple other students sat down on an number of ox blood couches and armchairs, drinks in hand and quiet chatter. On the side, some older students kissed on top of each other or duelled with staffs and coloured sparks dancing around wood and skin. Regulus followed the dark skinned girl through the room as they reached the back and sat on a quiet corner.

He looked around, taking in the mixture of bloody and emerald uniforms, fur cloaks tossed all around. His brows furrowed softly as he read the people and room around him almost a ghost under their absent care and eyes on him. A cold bottle was shoved into his hand, grounding and forcing him to turn towards his friend, lips open to flood her with questions surrounding the ambient. The Black boy looked as if he drowned on his surroundings and the impact of the difference.

“Emerald means фанатичный. Someone who’s fanatic, rabid, obsessed.” Lyre pulled on the fabric of her own shirt, allowing it to snap back sharply against her sternum. Her expression cold and flat, though her tone had hints of disappointment. “It’s not something we wear proudly. We don’t know what we did to deserve it or why, all we know is how much harsher and meticulous they are with us. We must be nothing short of pure, untainted perfection.”

“Oh.”

The two of them fell silent, sipping their drinks. It was comforting to just sitting besides each other, their energy and magic intertwining in one. Something far more intimate and softer, perhaps holier than meaningless words. The cold, bittersweet liquid sitting on their tongues as if it keep them from uttering a word, from asking the questions filled with hurt and abandonment of the years apart. The breaking of a childhood oath, far more damaging than the after effects of breaking an unbreakable vow. Because  
unfamiliarity with someone closer than your own blood, who shares the burdens of your secrets, losses and ideologies is, by far, harsher than death.

Regulus’ eyes settled on her for a brief second, questioning if her presence was physical or solely spiritual. His fingertips itched for the feel of her skin, longing for concrete proof that it wasn’t just another dream or his mind’s tireless tricks. Yet he remained still. Drinking in the braided dark locks and numb eyes, skin carrying more scars than the last time he saw her in the summer. Somehow, in a eerily paradoxical way, he felt as if she remained unchanged and also rebirthed into an entirely new being. He knew it wasn’t  
possible, it couldn’t be. It just couldn’t, correct?

Perhaps they had both being rebirthed and yet unchanged. They were more in control, aware of the magic running in their veins. No more accidental sparks dancing around anxious fingers or levitating objects when angry. They knew how to channel and control their power, bend it to their will at a basic capacity. Almost anything possible with enough dedication and hard work.  
His eyes drifted away before they could meet hers, as she analysed him. He still wore the black suit his mother had shoved up his shoulders, a proper yet mismatching outfit. Clearly out of his element, even with his confidence and fake arrogance he had learned to portray to untrained eyes. Fingers loosely gripping the bottle on his hands as his mind tangled his thoughts into a tight knot as he adapted to his new circumstances. With a hum, Lyre lifted her fingers as green sparks moved around them before a folded pile of blood red uniforms fell on his lap.

“You should change. I’ll introduce you to others later.” She leaned in, fixing his hair while setting her bottle down. Her hands moved to drape her fur cloak over her shoulders and grasp her staff as she raised from her feet. “Meet me upstairs. At the bow of the ship.”

As soon as the introductions left her lips, she crossed the room and left it behind. Regulus looked around slightly, noticing an opening door at the opposite end they had come down from. It showed a set of beds, as if the ship itself directed him to the right path. He grabbed the uniforms in his hand and lifted his wand to force his luggage to follow him into the new room. It had simply two beds, draped in golden bedding. The one on the far right was adorned by a crow banner hung on the wall, the Lestrange family crest. With a smile, he started recognizing his friend’s belongings as his own luggage settled on the empty side of the room.

“Focus, Reg.” He whispered to himself, before starting to change.

The uniform seemed far too big for him, until it was fully buttoned on his body. It was almost as if it melted to fit his frame perfectly, tailored by the spell put on it. He walked to the mirror while using his wand fold the clothing he wore before and and organize his belongings, gazing at the strange uniform. It was nothing like Hogwarts, nothing like what he knew. A weird, vibrant reminder of how far out of his comfort zone he was. It reminded him of Gryffindor and, consequentially, his brother.

Ox blood turtle-neck, trousers and coat, dark leather boots and belt. Adorning golden buttons and threading. It looked oddly good to his usual dark green and black palette. His black hair falling to his chin and green eyes lit up, slightly looking less like the pale ghost he was at his mother’s home. With a sigh, he analysed the room through the mirror, focusing on a small silver lighter on the bedside table.

He had given the muggle-made item to Lyre years ago, after his brother managed to escape to his friend's house days before Christmas. It had a carved raven on the body of it and Sirius had taken it to his closest friend, Remus, to place a spell so the liquid would never run out. And, most importantly, she had kept it. Close to her, to where she felt the safest.

Shaking his head, his made his way to the meeting point, closing his eyes as he reached the moon lit bow. She was standing against it, cigarette between her fingers as her gaze was fixed on the stars. As soon as she felt his presence, Lyre pulled a silver cigarette case from her pocket and opened it, waiting for him to take one and join her before putting it away once again. With a mindless blink of his eyes, he lit it with the spell he saw his father and mother using for so long and took a long drag.

“Brings out your eyes, just as I figured.” She whispered, without taking a single look at him.

“Feels a little Gryffindor-like.” He mentioned, as she cringed with a laugh before nodding. “It does,  
though.”

The two of them slid down to the floor, smoking wordlessly while star gazing. Every so often, they’d listen to other students coming out for a smoke or point a constellation for the other. Time seemed to have stilled, as the boat pushed through the waves towards it’s home. Their home now, I assume. Regulus placed the two cigarette butts on his hand, before covering it briefly and removing it to reveal two white doves that soared up the sky and towards land.

“How much?” Regulus question broke the silence between them, rarely above a whisper in it’s vagueness.

“From what I’ve heard from you and my brothers... Way more harsher than Hogwarts.” Lyre’s answer came in the same tone, forcing her to turn to him as he nodded. She placed her hand on top of his, pulling it away and giving up as he intertwined their fingers. “They’ll expect nothing less than the absolute best. The subjects are different, the magic is different, more ancient. They aren’t mean on purpose, just cold and demanding.”

“Tough love. I know it well, it’s Walburga’s favourite.” He smiled, rubbing circles on the top of her hand. For the first time in ages, it wasn’t a fake accessory on his lips to please others. It was genuine, warm, even. “And how are you?”

The question seemed to catch her, forcing her to let out a chuckle as she stared down. Her head shook lightly, eyes pressed close.

“You’re the only one who still actually cares, huh? Always so caring, so soft.” Her free hand cupped his cheek, brushing his cheek with her thumb. Her lips curved into a saddening smile. “I hope they don’t break you too, sweet Reg. I’d hate to lose this side of you.”

He kissed her palm as she pulled her hand away, raised eyebrows questioning her still.

“Better now. It’s been...” Her eyes dazed off to the statue on the bow of the ship, avoiding his gaze. “Solitary. It’ll be nice to have you around, perhaps teach each other a thing or two.”

“Hogwarts wasn’t as great to me as I might have led you to believe.” He confessed, before she shoved him lightly.

“Bastian told me. Hasn’t been exactly welcoming with all those stupid followers of him pressuring the two of you, I imagine.” She instantly shook her head, sighing. “I didn’t mean to sound harsh. I-”

“Hate him, I know. I’m not letting his Dark Highness recruit me. As long as I can still resist, I will. You know it.” Regulus squeezed her hand, forcing her to look back at him with a roll of her eyes. “Orion is set on not allowing me to join for at least another year, at least.”

She nodded slightly, pulling him to lay his head on her lap. Her fingers moved on his scalp in delicate circles as he let out a sigh of relief. It was as if all the tension of his home, all the pressure from his parents disappeared, even if just in that moment. His eyes drifted close as his relaxation slowly pulled him into peaceful slumber. Lyre bent down, kissing the top of his head before letting the words fall silently off her mouth:

“If there’s one thing Durmstrang will teach you, Reg, is how to stand up for what you believe and fight for it. I promise you, you’ll find the strength to do as you desire. It will make you nearly invincible.”


	2. II. Letter

> _23rd of December, 1975 – Somewhere at sea_   
>  _Dear brother,_   
>  _As I write this letter, we have two days left on the ship before arriving at the Institute. We_   
>  _shall arrive on my birthday, in the morning. Everything seems to be far from what mother expected, to be_   
>  _quite frank. Students are alone in the boat, however, so perhaps all the drinking, smoking and use of magic_   
>  _is due to the lack of supervision. All the snogging and shagging around sorta reminds me of Hogwarts._   
>  _Something I’ve come to find out is the lack of houses in Durmstrang. Instead there is a sort_   
>  _of system of merit which Lyre seems to not be aware the true motive of them deserving it, despite being_   
>  _what they call “an Emerald” herself. The change is the colour of the uniform from the usual ruby to emerald_   
>  _and how much harsher and expectant they allegedly are with the latter. Apparently there’s extra classes or_   
>  _some shit as well. It has been going well despite me wearing Gryffindor colours, which I imagine will make_   
>  _you laugh._   
>  _Regardless, being close to Lyre once again is pleasant. She seems to have changed a bit, but I reckon_   
>  _so did us. Her hair is longer and her eyes darker. Last night, I noticed a lot of people seemed to respect her,_   
>  _perhaps even envy her. I wonder why. I’m looking forwards to finding out who she is away from her family._   
>  _Do you believe she still has the crow lighter you asked Lupin to enchant for us? I was surprised by it,_   
>  _honestly. It’s just weird being in a school setting with her, especially considering her knowledge of magic_   
>  _never allowed in Hogwarts. I wonder what shall I learn the rest of this year, out of mother’s claws._   
>  _I assume you’re already back at the Potters, correct? Do write back and let me know how things are_   
>  _going, Six._   
>  _I miss you,_   
>  _Reggie_

  
Regulus whispered a spell to dry the ink, before closing it and putting inside of the envelope. He dripped down the warm wax before pressing it with his family seal and getting up. He pocketed the letter before slipping on the uniform fur cloak and leaving the room in search of Lyre. She had mentioned waiting outside with some friends.

He walked out of the room and closed the door behind him, looking around the hall to find a group of emerald uniformed students sitting in a circle. They drank and laughed, talking in different languages with each other while seeming to fully understand what the other meant. A little distanced from the group, his eyes fell on his old friend with mismatched eyes and the boy besides her. He seemed older, leaning into her with his long dark hair and darker eyes. His uniform was a dark red, almost shifting into green and tattoos peaked from the sleeves and neck of it.

“Have you been sleeping well?” The boy with shoulder length black hair leaned in, asking her in a whisper. His mouth close to her jaw as to not disturb the others talking. “Everyone needs some rest once in awhile.”

“I’m sleeping just fine, Igor.” She rolled her eyes, sipping from the cup in her hand.

Igor looked unconvinced, raising his eyebrows as his hand grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. His fingers grew white from the pressure as her bored eyes remained open, defiant and daring as he searched her mind for the truth. He let her go as she turned back to the group and finished her drink. It didn’t seem to bother Lyre that he forced the truth out of her or that he knew what she had been hiding for so long. He dragged his hands through his hair and put a cigarette on his lips, offering her one and lighting both. Finally, she turned to face him, smoke falling off her lips.

“You should have told me.” Igor sighed.

“Oh, please. What would you have done? Tied me to the bed? It whispers to me, it calls me. No matter what I do, I always find myself there.” Lyre pulled the cigarette off her lips, her right leg bouncing as she pushed it down with her hand, cigarette tight between her fingers. “Nothing can stop it.”

“It’s his. You know the rumours, Lyre, it’s... Demonic.”

“So? We all have demons whispering to us.” She watched as he chuckled and shook his head. Lyre shoved him lightly with a smile. “Anyway, I don’t think Grindewald did anything regarding Demons. It’s extreme dark magic, perhaps a...”

She stopped herself, feeling Regulus’ presence and raising from her seat while taking a last drag from her cigarette. All the others on a server got up and bowed to her, before Igor and her left to meet the new student. Igor bowed slightly before offering his hand to the Black boy, who analysed him and the group before shrugging and extending his hand.

“Igor Karkaroff.” His thick accent made Lyre smile at him.

“Regulus Black.”

“I’m aware. You’re Lestrange’s friend.” Igor took his hands to his hair, tying it up on a bun before looking the other boy up and down. “The uniform suits you.”

With those words, Igor bowed to Lyre and left them to join the group once more. She allowed Regulus to drink in her friend’s behaviour and mannerisms, understand which languages he heard and what the rest of the room did. It was exactly what she had done when she had first arrived at Durmstrang, study everyone. It was what her father had taught her and her brothers, besides other pure-blood kids like Reg.

Lyre touched his arm, cold fingers pushing him gently besides her to the top of the ship as she grabbed two bottles from an empty table. They made their way to the deck, filled by nothing but smoke and ghosts. She put the two bottles on the floor before sitting down and opening one, Regulus staying still with an envelope in hands. Noticing the piece of paper, she nodded and raised an arm.

As if she had called it, a black crow landed on her arm and faced her with a bent head. Her fingers ran up and down its head, caressing its hair as it gawked at her. She tilted her head towards Reg, as he extended the letter to the bird. The raven coloured bird bit his fingers softly, almost kindly. It had delivered several letters to the boy previously and seemed interested on his presence there.

“You know what to do, Huggin.” She whispered before the bird soared up.

It cut through the clouds and soon was out of their point of view. Huginn flew through the skies until reaching it’s destiny, flying through the open window in the Potter’s residency and into the Black haired marauder’s lap mid conversation. The bird dropped the letter down on him, before soaring away without a single sound.

“Who’s it from?” The boy with round classes and eternally messy dark hair asked mid cigarette drag. He watched his friend analyse the wax seal before pushing his glasses up. “Your mother’s?”

“Only wizarding family that uses crows are the Lestranges.” Remus pointed out, stealing the cigarette from James’ hand for himself. The brown skinned boy rolled his eyes and shoved him, before lighting another cigarette. “Is it from Regulus?”

Sirius finally opened the letter before nodding to Remus and casting his eyes down at the letter, laughing slightly at the words. The other two looked at him expectantly as the boy read the letter his brother had sent. It took a while before he folded the letter and put it in his pocket to face his friends. Their raised eyebrows made him roll his eyes, knowing there was no way out besides telling them what the letter said. He moved forwards and grasped the cigarette from Remus, taking a long drag before returning it and messing his friend’s caramel hair.

“Yes, it was Reg’s. They are close to Durmstrang and it’s nothing like your majesty, the queen Walburga Black expected.” Sirius said, mocking his mother’s mannerisms as his friends giggled and pushed him. He threw himself down on the bed with a sigh, closing his eyes with a smile. “Important thing is that he’s alright and out of mother’s claws. Our family friend, Lyre Lestrange is there. The one from the enchanted lighter? You remember, Moons?”

The boy lifted up his eyebrows as he nodded, smoke leaving his lips. He did remember that day. He and Sirius had just spent the day out on the Muggle side of town, entering small stores and thrift shops in search for anything that they might fancy. In a dusty antique store, he remembered Six lifting up a silver engraved lighter and analysing it while calling him over.

Remus himself was not able to touch it due to his condition, but he leaned in besides his friend’s shoulder. As Sirius shifted it so they both cold look at the engraving, he lifted his fingers to the shorter boy’s hair and ran his finger through it, pulling it into a bun and tying it with one of the rubber bands he kept around his wrist especially for these moments as his friend would always lose them. He then rested his chin upon the other’s shoulder, arms intuitively wrapping around Six’s waist. Neither one of them dared say a word, focusing on the item and the ravens engraved on it.

“It reminds me of a friend of mine and Regulus’, Lyre. Brother was looking for a gift for her, since their birthdays are so close.” Sirius whispered, quietly leaning into Remus’ torso as he spoke. The boy behind him hummed, indicating that he was listening. “She’s a Lestrange, but not like the rest of them. Sorta crazy, goes to Durmstrang and all.”

“I could enchant it so it never runs out of liquid.” He whispered back, lips pressing onto the other’s shoulders. “Would take a while since I can’t touch it and the spells aren’t easy, but I should be done before Christmas’ day.”

“You don’t have to, Re. I know you’re tired with the full moon so close.” Sirius leaned his head on top of the bundle of light brown hair on his shoulder.

“I want to.” He lifted his head, forcing Sirius’ up as well before he looked around. Noticing it seemed empty, Moony cupped his friend’s face on his hands, fingers caressing the scarless pale skin. “You know I’d do anything for you, Pads.”

Six leaned in and gave him a peck on the lips, pocketing the lighter before pulling away.

“Let’s get out before we get hate crimed. I wanna show you some place.”

Padfoot took him to a lake nearby hidden amongst the trees, where they kissed each other breathless until it was time to meet at James’ house for dinner. It had only been a year since that day, but it felt like it had been ages ago, considering how much they evolved since. They didn’t tell anyone besides their friends and the Potters about how they now dated, knowing the repercussions it could have. Sirius’ parents would disown him, some ill-intentioned students could try and hex them, muggles could try and kill them. But inside their dorms, in James’ house – their safe spaces – they could truly be themselves fearlessly.

A soft knock came from the door of the room, as the three of them hurried to take the last drags of their cigarettes out before throwing them the window. They sat back down and fixed their appearances as James gave permission for the person to come in. The door opened slowly, revealing a tall black woman with curls wrapped up by a colourful piece of silk and three mugs floating in front of her. As she walked in, her nose wrinkled and she crossed her arms.

“James Hector, dear, if you’re gonna smoke, at least light an incense. We don’t need the whole house smelling like cigarettes.” Euphemia fixed the knot on the front of her face, securing her hair as the three mugs ended up on the boys’ hands. She grabbed her son’s glasses as they steamed up and muttered a spell before pushing them back with a kiss on his temple. “I made you lot some hot chocolate.”

She winked towards Remus, before fixing her dress and turned around to fix an incense on the holder her son kept at the window and lighting it with a snap of her fingers. Euphemia walked around the room and kissed each boy’s cheek, stopping at the tallest.

“I slipped some extra chocolate on yours. And there’s more of them on the cabinet, you know which one..” The woman ruffled Moony’s hair with a soft smile on her lips, placing a bar on his lap. “If you need anything, please let me, James or Fleamont know, dear. Did the boys let you get enough rest?”

“Yes, of course. Thank you, Miss Potter.” Remus smiled at her before taking a sip of his mug.

“Anytime, _cariño_.”

As the woman left the room and closed the door, James turned to the boys with a smirk:

“I know, mum’s the best.”

“Shut up, Potter.” Sirius laughed, elbowing him as Remus chuckled behind his hot chocolate.

_______________________________________________________

  
Regulus blocked the last blow, before sighing and sitting down on the floor.

“You win.” His words came out breathlessly, as she walked forwards to join him. “I forgot how tiring wandless magic can be.”

She hummed, sitting down besides him and conjuring the two bottles they had left on a table nearby, Lyre handed him one and pulled him to lay his head on her shoulder, sipping from the remaining bottle. The two of them sat quietly as they drank and caught their breaths. The sun was nearly setting in comparison to the how high it had been before, they had first started duelling.

“You did great, though. Most new students never mastered wandless or speechless magic before coming to the institute, which takes them all their free time to learn.” She ran her fingers through his head, as he laid down on her lap with closed eyes. “They won’t usually require you to practice nearly as much as we did, but I had to be sure you could handle it if...”

“I know. I’m gonna be fine though.” His words came out slurred, as he slowly drifted to sleep.

Lyre nodded, finishing her drink without another word. She kept on running her fingers through his hair and watching as the sun started to set. It pained her not to tell him about how his first day at Durmstrang would go, about the initiation practices and his first classes. But she couldn’t. Betraying her classmates, her family in a way, and breaking the tradition wasn’t fair. She knew he could face the challenge, that he wouldn’t take it lightly if she revealed what he had to prepare for. Especially when she did believe in his potential. After all, if all the alumni had managed to survive being dangled off a cliff by their fingers... So could Regulus Black. Or so she told herself in order to remain calm.


	3. III. Secrets

“So, last morning on the ship.” Igor smiled, nudging the boy besides him as they watched the birds flying above. Their hands were wrapped around warm mugs of coffee and a blanked draped on top of them and Lyre. “I assume you have learnt a great deal about Durmstrang already.”

Lyre sighed, rolling her eyes as she leaned back onto the sides of the ship. There was no sun to be seen for the past two days, as they inched closer to the school. The cold was almost unbearable without their uniforms and the blanket. She pressed her fingertips harder against the mug, trying to absorb the heat before sipping the burning liquid.

“A fair deal.” Reg shrugged, snickering. “What I haven’t yet, is learnt more about you, mate.”

Igor laughed, starting to debate his life and how he ended up there at the ship. He was sure Lyre was not interested, despite her corrections every so often. The three of them maintained a quiet conversation, as the sun deck as slowly filled by students.

They raised their staffs and wands and started duelling with each other, moving to a new partner after every move. Almost like a synchronized dance, they ignored their uniform colours as they practices and helped each other with advice and introductions to new spells. It seemed to be a routine of the students, as they pointed to Lyre and Igor to invite them, as they both denied.

“How about you, Black?” One of the students said midst battle. “Want to show us what you Hogwarts kids are capable of?”

Regulus considered for a moment, before handing his mug to Igor and raising to join them. He raised his wand to protect himself from the first spell directed at him, before joining the group. Confused at first, he quickly understood the order of the duels and became quicker at his actions.

Watching him, Igor and Lyre headed down to the living area. They placed down the blanket and mugs, sitting in front of the fire for a second. They pulled a book each from a nearby shelf, reading quietly in the warmth. Time went by as they focused on their studies besides each other.

“Don’t you want to get some sleep before we get back to the school?” Igor suggested as he watched the girl yawn besides him. “It’s not like you get much sleep there.”

“Oh, please, just drop it.” Lyre sighed, forcing her book closed. The noise made her jump slightly as she turned to him.

“No. You refuse to acknowledge the problem. You keep finding yourself near that stupid whispering wall.”

“Not the wall whispering, dear.” She raised from the floor, trying to avoid him. She closed her fists as he got up to follow her. “I don’t want to discuss it. It’s harmless. I can’t sleep and find myself there, what about it?”

“Lestrange, we need to talk about _it_. You can’t just go roaming around the castle in the night instead of sleeping.” Igor held the girl’s wrist to stop her from leaving, her cold skin seemed to nearly freeze his fingers but his grip remained. She didn’t move and he took it as permission to go on. “You must tell someone… It was made by _him_.”

Lyre pulled her wrist away, facing him. Her eyes seemed to darken as they focused on him. Her smile was sharper than her knives and more dangerous than her anger, yet it seemed to give him a false sense of safety. Like a snake, observing it’s prey before devouring whole or a crow, observing from above with deadly careful eyes before striking when the time is right. The words left her lips monotone, flat, corpse-like:

“His name is Gellert Grindelwald. You are well aware of it, yet you dare not say it.”

“He was expelled from the Institute, Ly. He tortured students, experimented on them… You know the things he did. We all do!” He hissed on her ear, as eyes focused on them. “Of course I’m fucking scared of him. Everyone is.”

“He’s nothing, a man. You say they all fear him as if I did not know the rumours.” She smiled, leaning in. Her mouth nearly touched his ear, forcing a chill down his spine. “And they are right. There’s something wrong with me. Why else would I feel called to the symbol he carved on the wall? To his – “

He pulled away, cupping her face with both hands and forcing her to look at him.

“There’s nothing wrong with you. Stop with this nonsense, my friend.”

“How would you know? You’re not fully an emerald yet.”

Igor pushed her away while clenching his fists. He knew she was right. He had been in between an emerald and nothing for two years, somehow unable to move forwards while knowing there was no way back. If his friends with the prestigious yet haunting uniforms were demanded nothing short of perfection and studied tirelessly, training until their unconscious bodies were taken to the infirmary to be healed back into training. They were machines, weapons. But he, in between, was seen as less than all the others. Worthy of praise, yet not worthy enough of the privilege of unlimited knowledge. He was mocked, made fun of by faculty and pitied by other students.

Golden sparks flew around his trembling fingers as he took a deep breath, focusing. Igor knew she was right. It was a fact. And, were him an emerald, facts would not hurt him as they did, as it forced him to remember why he was stuck in the seemingly eternal limbo. He pulled her into a hug, golden light disappearing from sight as she returned the gesture.

Lyre quickly pulled away from him, patting him on the shoulder with a short nod before turning around walking towards her cabin. For a second, she seemed to have fully retreated, before she returned with a thick, leather book in hand. She dropped on Igor’s hand before sitting back down on her armchair and lighting a cigarette. Igor shrugged before putting the book on his lap as he sat down and started reading it.

“Lyre.” A blond boy crossed the room, a deep cut from his left cheekbone to below his jaw and Regulus behind him. The blood dripped like thick tears down his neck and stained his uniform. “You did not tell us your friend was so similar to you. He has that same look in his eyes as you did in your first year, such wonder and ambition.”

The girl shrugged, as the two boys sat down in front of her. The blond one conjured a bottle of Butter Kvass for him and the other boy, cheering him on before drinking. He started retelling the series of duels they had had since the sun had risen in great detail, not bothering on stopping the bleeding on his face as Lyre simply smoked and nodded. His other friends soon gathered around, congratulating the new student.

Regulus however, did not pay attention to the others. His eyes were focused on his friend as she smoked. Something had happened. She was hiding lots of things from him, yet he could not figure out what for the life of him. Not a drop of surprise in her face as his duels were narrated, even though she had never known much of his Hogwarts education or had duelled him besides the day before. No one of his age and traditional schooling should be able to defeat several seventh years of higher, more admirable knowledge. And she was aware of it, yet unsurprised.

He could see the ghost of a smile on her lips as Igor raised his head from the book he read midst the blond boy’s story. Did she expect those reactions? For him to decide to spend six months on her school, to run away from everything? How could she, if he hadn’t told anyone, not even his parents until the day the Durmstrang letter arrived? It was impossible for her to know his plan. For anyone to know it.

“So, Mikel. You lost a duel to a Hogwarts student with half the knowledge you have?” Lyre’s first words came sharp, but made all around her laugh.

“You led us to believe that, but I’m sure, from your reaction, that you knew what he is capable of.”

Lyre shrugged, putting out the third cigarette she lit while Mikel talked while her eyes focused on Reg. She smiled at him, violet and black eyes contemplating him with a question. She seemed to search for something before, rolling her eyes and nodding.

“I know the lengths kids forced to join a nonsensical war will go, that’s all.” Her answer was left in the air as she raised from her seat and walked towards one of the windows.

Instinctively, Regulus raised from his own seat and followed her. Staring from a distance at first, before deciding to confront her. He walked up to her and pushed his back against the wooden wall, arms crossed. When she didn’t open her lips, he raised an eyebrow and softly kicked her ankle.

“What are you hiding?” He went to straight to the point, earning a chuckle from her.

“I know _he_ went to visit you.”

The two of them fell silent, staring at the floor. So that was how. No one besides his parents were supposed to know of the Dark Lord’s visit to Regulus over the summer, his desire to recruit the young boy. Of course, it seemed momentous, despite how Voldemort did not insist or bring up the topic to his parents again. But the fact he came personally to try and recruit Regulus meant way more than they dared say. It meant he was important, he had great potential and was wanted, personally, within the ranks.

While this time he had denied, saying he was just a fourth year, that he needed to consider it, it was respected… The following times wouldn’t follow the same way. There wasn’t an option to deny the Lord, to openly admit to be against his war and live. His parents desired him to join the ranks alongside them, his Slytherin classmates made a point to invite him every time they could. But Reg refused to join a pointless war, a war he did not agree with.

That was partially the reason he moved half-way through the year to the Institute. He was out of Voldemort’s reach now, away from his followers. That allowed time to learn magic away from watchful eyes, to learn magic _his_ followers couldn’t even imagine. No one would be able to know what he did when he denied him again, no one would be able to stop him from running away. Except her.

“That’s why you knew I was going to know more than I let on.” He pointed out, breaking the silence.

“I imagined.” Lyre pushed her head against the wall besides him. “We both have openly said how much we fucking hate him, so it seemed natural you would try to learn as much as you can.”

“To kill him, yes.” Regulus shrugged, opening his game. He knew she had the same goal, regardless of what she said in front of her family and other pure-bloods. “The question is, how did you know if he came to see me in secret?”

“You forget my father is his oldest and most loyal friend, love. Of course I know. I know _everything_.” She giggled, pushing him lightly. He grabbed her arms with a smile. “Truth is… I asked him not to recruit you.”

He stopped, raising an eyebrow. No one told Voldemort what to do, much less a child.

“If he recruits you, my brothers will not join him. He wants us because we’re my father’s children, he knows our education. He was so frequent in our house, we used to call him ‘uncle’. My mother was… Special to him, as is my father. So, he agreed.”

“He agreed just like that?” Regulus pushed, knowing what she was going to answer.

She dropped her cloak on the floor, opening her emerald jacket to reveal a black turtle-neck. With a sigh, she pushed the jacket off and the sleeves up. Underneath, he saw the faint scars. They were thin and raised, a purple tone compared to her dark skin. They travelled up her arms and down her palm, being noticeable from across the room. He wrapped his hands around her arms lightly, before moving up the shirt and pulling the collar of it down to her shoulders. The scars were thicker and hadn’t fully healed yet under the fabric.

“Fuck, Ly. Fucking hell.” Regulus whispered, pulling her into his chest.

“It doesn’t hurt that much, it’s okay. I’m used to it.”She whispered onto his shoulder, despite the tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Lyre Achlys Lestrange, don’t you fucking dare get yourself hurt for me.” He clenched his jaw, pulling her tighter.

He pulled her sleeves down, before picking her jacket and cloak off the floor. He helped her put them on. When she tried to button the jacket, he slapped her hand away to do it. She knew he felt guilty for the pain she had endured for him, for the sacrifice they both knew was useless.

“It’s not your fault, Art. Plus, I don’t care what I have to go through.” Lyre smiled, as she shoved him back towards Igor and the others. “I’ll get my revenge soon enough and get to see the look on his face when I make him suffer the pain he inflicted on me and others.”

“And then what?” Reg joked, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as they threw themselves down on the couch.

“Then, we kill him. With spells he doesn’t even dream of existing.”

They laughed, pulling away from each other as the other kids pulled them into the conversation. Regulus was flooded with questions, why and how he transferred, how was Hogwarts and the usual. He answered everyone, enchanting them with his charm and tact. He knew what they wanted to hear, how to say it, how to make them like him and used it to his advantage.

Besides him, Lyre hid her smile while talking with Igor and dark skinned boy. She listened to Reg’s words and glanced at him every once in a while, knowing he was already placing his plan in action. They all seemed to admire him already and be interested in how he can duel so well, in what classes he’d be in. The two boys she talked to started betting on when Regulus would become an emerald, forcing her to roll her eyes.

“Leave him be. He’s better off not being one of us.” She kicked the boy’s ankle, with a smirk. “You know better than us how being stuck in the emerald-scarlet limbo for years can be. It’s been what? Ever since first year, Moody?”

“Oh, shut up, Lestrange. Not everyone gets a fast pass!” He threw his shaven head back as he laughed, kicking her back.

“Fast pass? I spent half a year in limbo.”

“Oh yes, cause that’s so much compared to us.” Igor rolled his eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm as Lyre slapped his arm,

Just as she was about to reply, the ship came to a violent stop. It felt like it had crashed, as the students where thrown to the front. As they pulled themselves up and helped each other, the ship started to rise from the water. Of course it hadn’t crashed. The ship was sentient, it knew the path it was supposed to take… Which could only mean they had arrived. Nervous panic spread through the students, who organized the duties between them without a word.

“Oh, fucking hell.” Lyre stumbled up, being supported by Igor while walking to the stairs. Other students instantly started cleaning the ship and fixing their uniforms, while Reg and Igor followed the girl upstairs. “For fucking fuck’s sake. Zora, you could have given us a heads up, love.”

The ship’s figurehead turned slightly in, lips moving and yet no sound being made. The two Durmstrang students seemed to understand what she said and nodded, fixing their uniforms quickly. Lyre turned towards Regulus, fixing his shirt and cloak as her hair was braided by the other boy’s quick fingers. She snapped her fingers, allowing a crimson shade to colour her lips before straightening her back. Their wands appeared on their hands and staffs on their backs which Reg attributed to the emerald sparks on his friend’s fingers.

“We should go downstairs and make sure all are ready.” Igor suggested, dragging the other boy downstairs while Lyre raised her wand to lift the sails and clean up the sun deck. “Come on, Regulus. We don’t want Headmistress Krum to even consider us unprepared. You don’t need to know the punishments for that now.”

Reg nodded, as they marched downstairs. Everyone seemed to be prepared, uniforms seemed recently ironed and staffs across their back. Two men who he recognized as Lyre’s friends pointed their wands and ironed both his and Igor’s uniforms as they arrived, whispering to the latter before he nodded. The Black boy walked past the crowd and into his shared cabin, taking a deep breath.

He focused on the energy inside of him and relaxed. A burning sensation spread through his blood stream, heating his fingers. They seemed to tingle as grey sparks danced around his wrists. It didn’t seem to evolve from that, just getting warmer and warmer. He tried focusing harder, remembering what he had been taught when younger but it only seemed to frustrate him even further as the sparks started to still. He clenched his fists and opened his eyes, cursing under his breath. Only then an iron tight grip came around his waist, startling him.

“Calm down.” She whispered, mouth so close to his ear that he could feel the heat of her lips. “Use your anger, all the spite that motivates you to get out of bed every morning. Focus on that. On the raw energy of being used, taken advantage of, all of the pain. I believe in you.”

His shoulders instantly unknotting as all the world around them seemed to fade, only her words and her presence around him existing in that moment. Regulus nodded and rolled his neck around before opening his eyes. Images of his mother screaming at him, hitting him, her words, the way he was pushed around and forced to do his parents bidding, the stupid children in Hogwarts who wanted to convince him to join their stupid war filled his brain. The chaos around them hit his ears as the sparks around his fingers turned from a dark grey to black, objects around the room instantly organizing themselves into both his and Lyre’s luggage. With a smirk on his lips, he allowed the luggage to pile itself besides the door. The sparks no longer seemed to burn his skin or boil his blood, as the iron taste of magic filled his mouth.

As he breathed in, the sparks disappeared and the arms tightened themselves against his waist, Lyre’s body pressed against his back. Reg turned around, receiving a quick peck on his cheek as her warmth split away from him. She was already walking away in the now empty room, reaching the stairs without a single word. As Lyre noticed he did not follow her, she turned around:

“Hurry along, love. We’re _home_.”


	4. IV. Durmstrang Institute

The steps leading to the sun deck seemed to extend, like an eternal path that forced his fists and jaw to clench. It wasn’t clear why he felt like that, chest heavier with each step, thoughts overlapping and racing faster than he could keep up with. Suddenly, it was like his first year at Hogwarts and having to figure out those fucking moving stairs that seemed to purposely mess with students. It was only then that it hit him. _Anxiety_ , of course. Regulus grunted at himself, eyes rolling as he inched closer to the final steps, a shadow leaning over him with a curious stare. He could do it, he thought. It was just another stupid school, couldn’t be any worse than what he had dealt with before.

He closed his eyes for a second, focusing on seeming calm and collected. He had done it countless times before. The woman wore a similar uniform to the students, coloured a black shade darker than he deemed possible. A cloak made of lion skin was wrapped around her shoulders and over her hair, the head of the animal gracing her like a crown of gold and bones. She looked like a real queen, like everything Walburga could only dream of being. As her hand extended to his, clenching around his like the hands of glory of Sirius’ favourite stories.

“Welcome to Durmstrang Institute for Young Witches and Wizards, Mister Black. We are proud to receive such an outstanding student like yourself.” The red lips barely moved as she spoke, contrasting against her powder white skin. It reminded him of warm blood dripping on fresh snow, innocence corrupted by violence and power. “I am Headmistress Bozhidara Krum.”

The boy cleared his throat, swallowing down his nervousness as he flashed her one of his classical smiles. The one he had perfected over the years to convince parents and faculty of anything and everything. He took her hand to her lips, lips brushing against the golden family ring on her finger before his eyes met her pleased nod. Hands pulled him out of the way and into the crowd just before the headmistress made her way down the stairs to check the ship.

The same pale hands as before found him, pulling him under an arm as they pushed through the crowd. Regulus looked up to meet Mikel’s smirk, noticing the scar on the corner of his lips before the boy winked at him. Mikel enjoyed the fact that the newcomer shifted his gaze to ruffle the boy’s black hair as they reached a corner of the deck, where a bundle of emeralds and in-betweens stood chatting.

“Found this one greeting the headmistress better than most first years.” Mikel interrupted, his blue eyes shifting to Reg before slapping his shoulder. He leaned down in order to continue: “Earlier this year, one of them passed out when they saw her. They usually _do_ humiliate themselves.”

“Don’t act like your brother didn’t tell us what _you_ did back in you first met Bozhidara. We all know how much better you did, dear.” Sarcasm dripped off her tongue as Lyre stood on her tiptoes and slapped the back of the blond’s hair. She rolled her eyes when he pushed her back and complained about the pain. “Regardless, we should get going. Now that Art and your stupid face is here.”

“Oh, yeah. We should show him the ground and introduce him to the rest.” Igor smiled, pushing himself up to stand on the edge of the ship. He looked around before pulling a familiar black boy by the cloak. “Speaking of… Alastor, there you are. Have you introduced yourself yet or did you leave your manners in your luggage, per usual?”

The older boy extended a hand to Reg, his hand running through the short curls that seemed meticulously trimmed. He flashed an awkward smile before joining Igor on the edge, both leaning back and falling with a loud laugh, their tall frames disappearing mid clouds. Regulus raised an eyebrow, not seeing any land beyond the edge as the rest of the group started to jump as well.

He felt himself being pulled by the hands, as both Lyre and Mikel helped him up. Looking down, there were nothing but clouds underneath them. He looked at his friends.

“You can’t be serious.” He nudged them, each of his hands still intertwined by one of each.

“Of course not, I’m not your brother.” Lyre joked, before winking at him. She looked at Mikel and nodded. “Here we fucking go.”

Before he could stop them, the two emeralds pulled him off the edge and into the empty sky. A scream settled on his throat, refusing to be left out as they crossed the gelid clouds. There was no stopping now. Perhaps _Aresto Momentum_ , but that depended on how far was the fall. For all he knew, he could die before being even close of hitting the ground. Closing his eyes, he embraced the fall. He could hear Lyre’s protests off a distance, despite still feeling her hand against his.

It was only then it stopped. He hand left his as he felt himself dangling down and his legs hit stone violently. There was still a hand around his when he opened his eyes, only to see Mikel lowering him down onto the edge of a fjord. The boy smiled at him apologetically, before letting go of his hand before it hit the ground. Regulus focused on gripping on the edge, elbow pressed against the edge and nails digging into the dirt last minute.

“Fuck.” He whispered, looking down to see a dark shadow dancing far below him.

That was it. He was dangling off a fucking fjord on an unknown country, in a new school. Not the death he had imagined. He looked up to the other students with a scoff, watching them. Lyre was being held by some older emeralds, sparks dancing around her arm as they kept her as far from him as possible. She rolled her eyes as the two girls flew away, hitting the ground out of his sight before Igor and Mikel pushed her down onto the dirt. The blond pressed his knees against her hip, legs stuck between his and shoulders being forced down as he seemed to tell her something.

With a grunt, Regulus tried to reach his other hand onto the edge to help him up. No one was going to help him. No one cared. No one ever fucking cared. As his other hand grazed the edge, he lost balance and hit his knees against the stone, arm slipping down. His nails dragged onto the dirt until the edge, as he found a tree branch to support his other arm. He tried using it as support to pull himself back up into land, testing the strength of it first.

“Oh, fuck me.” He pressed his eyes tight as the branch broke and fell down. His fingertips growing white from supporting his whole body weight.

There wasn’t a way out now. One wrong move and he’d fall to his death. His legs ached from being hit against the edge, arms trembling from the stress and pressure. For a second, he considered it. It sure did beat being being tortured to death by the Dark Lord and his supporters. Or his mother’s uncontrollable fury. His family’s words and expectations were going to kill him soon enough. Perhaps…

He opened his eyes and looked down. The end was blocked by a thick fog, but still seemed far enough down. The shadow moved far below. Calculating it, he would probably be dead before the monster even reached him. It was peaceful enough, compared to his options. He’d die without being forced into a stupid war, it’d be quicker, easier. _Almost too easy_. But it was worthy. Seemed like an accident, he struggled and a body wouldn’t possibly be recovered.

“Regulus, don’t you fucking dare.”

Lyre’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, making him feel a tug on his heart strings as someone told her to shut it. He couldn’t do that to her. Not after she had done so much to avoid Voldemort from recruiting him. She’d kill him for it, he knew it. All those years, the countless letters… And yet, she allowed him to be put in that position. His only friend. He had nothing left to lose. Perhaps it suited her to feel the pain of losing him, the guilt washing over her through the rest of her days.

“Oh, what the fuck.” He sighed, looking up to his fingers. He couldn’t feel them any more as they shook and threatened to give in. “Fuck it.”

Regulus let go of the edge, eyes wide open. This time, he heard a scream. It did not come from him, as he smiled and allowed the wind to hug him as he counted the meters as they piled above him. He could feel his heart beat slowing as his ears started to ring. Up above him, he could spot the faint moon as she seemed to smile at him. It had been done.

Only then, a dark hand wrapped around his body. Dagger sharp fingers closing like teeth around his body. Was he dead? It couldn’t be like that. A sharp noise forced him to shift around the palm. It seemed like a tree being ripped off the earth, waves crashing violently. A loud thunder made him jump up slightly, the light from it almost visible inside the shell around him. It followed by several others as he seemed to rise above. His head seemed to spin, as an unfamiliar laugh left his lips. He was trembling and muttering ancient words as a voice sounded in his mind:

 _Finally. I was awaiting for someone was cunning as you, Regulus Arcturus Black. Someone truly worthy of my grace, of my attention. It has been centuries since I waited. You, my child, are ready._ The voice laughed, as ravens seemed to caw around him. _In my name, I grant you my truest blessing._

Thunder hit the shell around it, forcing it open. He blinked from the sudden brightness of the dark sky, looking at the dark being that held him. It seemed to be made of enormous dark wood, black as if turned to charcoal. It’s head was adorned by crown made of ravens, quietly staring through him. The being seemed to smile at him, one eye missing as he saw heard the thunder. Before he could move, he felt the electricity burning through his veins.

He truly expected it to burn, to light every inch of his skin in merciless fire. Flames engulfing is wretched being, returning him to ashes in unforgiving, godly rage. It woke every bone on his body, as he felt a smile surge on his lips. He felt insane, knowing how it was impossible to feel so powerful and so alive. The taste of cigarettes, meat and alcohol stained his mouth. Electricity danced around his body as his eyes watered.

The image of _her_ seemed to be burnt into his eyes, as he watched his memories of _her_ on the reflection of his now silver eyes. Regulus felt the pain in his heart again as realisation filled his mind. She never had an option. It was a tradition, set in ancient blood. He felt his insides burning as he remembered how he had intended on hurt her, on make her suffer for leaving him to die. She had fought, nearly sacrificed her own life to save his. For the gods knew what time. The memories disappeared to reveal the sky once more, as his hands craved to hold her.

Lighting exploded from him, as the emotions took over him. It was almost as if his sacrifice had earned him the power and knowledge he craved for so long. The electricity from him connected with the one from the skies, as the being moved closer to the edge.

_Fight, child, for one day you might join me in my hall and feast besides me. You shall drink from my cup and eat from my plate. My sacrifice granted me what I desired and now I bestow the same gift onto you._

He felt the being placing him carefully onto the edge of the fjord, feet touching the ground as the electricity disappeared into his veins. It felt like needles dig onto the soles of his feet, knees nearly giving in as the hand pulled away. The being looked at him once more, bowing his head. The spear on his heart dragging the edge where his nails had been carved in search for safety before it disappeared back down onto the fog.

Regulus felt his knees bulge for forwards, as exhaustion drowned him. He bowed down to prepare for the hit as arms wrapped themselves around his waist and softened the fall. He didn’t need to open his resistant lids to know, feeling the corpse coldness of the limbs. He rose the dirt stained arm and pulled her closer into his chest, only realising how it was drenched in blood as it came in contact with her black curls.

“I’ve got you, love.” He managed to whisper into the crown of her head, her breath shaking on his neck as she tightened her grip on him.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Art. It-” She sobbed, raising her head to look at him before he pulled her head back down.

“I love when you call me that. You haven’t since we were just kids.” He chuckled as he ran his hand through her hair. “I know you couldn’t help. A tradition or whatever hell you call it here.”

She cursed under her breath, pushing him away to take a good look at him. Lyre cupped his face to take a look at him. His lips and chin were stained with blood, one arm bleeding and body shaking violently from the buzzing in his veins. She closed her eyes, muttering a healing spell before staring at him again. His uniform seemed to be covered in ash, though it seemed to stay after she brushed his uniform. At first, she imagined it was just burnt and that he’d need a new one. That’s when he opened his eyes.

The once pure green eyes replaced by a silver shade, thunder seeming to dance on his irises. The uniform wasn’t covered in ash. Not when all the pieces fit so perfectly. The eldritch being, desiring to fall and accepting his death, thunder. She looked around, looking for everyone who were already gone. Except for the tall woman covered in lion skin. The headmistress seemed to smirk, before turning away and walking towards the castle.

“Oh, it just had to be you, didn’t it?” Lyre pressed her lips into a line, her eyes seeming to look inward as she pulled her friend up. He seemed to be slipping in and out of consciousness, as she slipped his arm around her shoulder. “Come on.”

Regulus couldn’t keep his eyes open, as he tried to stumble to help her take him where she needed to. He tried his best to stay awake and focus on his senses, the ringing still faint on his ear and cold drops falling onto his skin. The last thing he felt was crossing a border before he collapsed onto the floor.

The girl cursed loudly, pushing him onto his back and cupping his cheek with her hand. Green sparks appeared on her fingers as she muttered spell after spell. His body grew limper by the second, making her grit her teeth. He couldn’t do that to her, not now. Tears fell down her eyes as her spells didn’t seem to have an effect on him. She shook his face lightly, before closing her eyes:

“All-father, please. Don’t fucking dare do this to me. You deemed him so bloody worthy, just to take him for yourself? Bullshit.” Lyre pressed her forehead against his, praying. She could have mistaken the signs but praying wouldn’t kill him regardless, she hoped. “You waited centuries for someone dauntless enough, for someone this fucking stupid. Óðinn, you bastard. Gift him as you did Ask and Embla, I beg of you.”

As the words left her lips, she felt a warm embrace against her. Her whole body was surrounded by the sparks as she struggled to maintain control. _Let go, little one. You asked for my advice, I shall answer._ She breathed out, obeying the voice on her mind. The room around her exploded in a cacophony of rage and green light as the boy besides her opened his eyes once more. The bruises healing and leaving faint scars on his body as she felt numb. The energy blast quickly ricocheted, settling back under her skin as she breathed in.

Her hands shook slightly from the momentary loss of control, as she helped Regulus to sit up. He smiled up at her. That stupid fucking smile. So cocky, so arrogant. Lyre barely flinched as her hand hit his cheek, slapping the smugness off his face. He froze in place, hand over her cheek as she got up.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Regulus rolled his eyes, rubbing his cheeks.

“Sorry, I just needed to wipe that stupid grin off your face. I couldn’t help myself.” She shrugged as she helped him up.

He scoffed, feeling her poisonous smile. Of course she couldn’t. Reg looked at her and elbowed her as they laughed, eyes connecting. She stopped laughing instantly. His eyed were still silver, hitting her like a brick. They’d never go back to their emerald color. He had proved himself, she should be proud. And she would be, if she didn’t know what it meant.

As she was lost on her own thoughts, he looked around the room she had pulled him into. It was decorated with delicate golden details, contrasting with the stone walls and white marble floors. A table was in the middle of it, a new set of uniform over it with a wand on top of them. He walked towards it, curious gaze analyzing the room. It was both extravagant and simple, as he noticed the art works on the walls and the huge painting on the ceiling.

“Oh, yeah.” Lyre shook her head, focusing on the situation. She caught up to him as he reached the table and muttered a spell onto the new uniform. “Welcome to The Halls. It’s like your Requirement Room at Hogwarts, but better.”

“What’s the wand for?” He raised an eyebrow, moving the wand from the top of the clothes and starting to change his jacket and cloak. He gestured for her to turn around, as she nodded and grabbed the spare wand to analyze it. “We both have ours, we shouldn’t need a new one.”

“It’s an unusual one, for sure. The handle is Cedar wood, around 13 inches, unyielding. The body of it seems to be Black Walnut, though. If double wood not impossible enough, wait until you hear what the core seems to be.” The girl felt a double tap on her shoulder, turning around to find him fully dressed in a red uniform. She used her free hand to check the inside of the sleeves, seeing the fabric was black instead of matching the outside. “Put it close to your ear.”

Regulus did as she said, listening to the sound of thunder from inside the wand before he gave it back.

“Yours was Cherry wood, dragon heart string, correct?” She asked, putting the weird wand down.

He nodded, pulling his wand from the old uniform only to find a charred wood stick. As he moved it around his fingers, the wand crumbled into ashes. Regulus sighed. Well, that was bound to happen after being hit by thunder twice. But, to be fair, he was also supposed to be dead or deeply scared, despite being presumably alive and only having the wound on his left arm from the cliff.

“I guess ‘was’ truly is the best choice of words.” He cleaned his hands of the ashes on the blackened uniform he had folded on the table, before picking up the thunder core wand and giving it a try. He pointed towards the uniform. “ _Lacarnum Inflamari_.”

The fabric was engulfed by enormous flames. The gorgeous red and gold danced around it, height lowering as more of it was burnt. He stared at it with a smile, eyes shining as shades were reflected on him. It seemed so brilliant, pure. As if his pain and anger all were consumed by it and turned to ashes alongside the uniform. It was one of the best fires he had ever started, the most pleasing as well. Perhaps the wand was truly made for him. After all, last time he set something ablaze so satisfyingly he was 7 years old and burning his mother’s hair after she tortured his brother.

Lyre chuckled, nudging him as she pulled herself up and sat on the table.

“You understand what happened, mister arsonist?”

“I set my uniform on fire?” He deadpanned, forcing the girl to laugh as she shook her head.

“The thunder, Art.” Lyre looked down as he joined her on the table, carrying on as he pushed her slightly. “It’s an old rumor. No one knew how the initiation rite first started, only that it is done so the newcomers can prove themselves worthy of learning besides the students. Faculty knows but they refuse to interfere, they all went through it as well, so. The rumor says that the tree that supports the Nine Worlds once hung on the cliff, which is the tree where Óðinn hung himself and pierced himself with a spear to earn the knowledge of the runes. He hung there for no less than nine days and nine nights.

“Yggdrasil grows out of the Well of the Urd, which abysmal depths hold many of the most powerful forces and beings in existence. The fjord is named after it, since it seems bottomless and eternal. Anyways, rumor says it who ever fights to death and embraces fearlessly when if it comes on the fjord… They earn _his_ blessing.”

So, when I accepted and embraced my death after trying to save myself…” Regulus nodded with a sigh.

“You fell into it and earned Óðinn’s grace. That’s why no one can help you. Óðinn himself forbade all from helping or saving him, and it applies to the newcomers.”

They both fell silent as he processed the information. So, he heard the voice of the All-father himself. He was blessed with knowledge and thunder, sacrifice and pain. His wand was burned, his uniform shifted from red to in-between, thunder literally on his veins At least his eyes no longer looked like his family’s. He accepted his death and was raised from perdition by the god himself, who sat in Valhalla. _You shall drink from my cup and eat from my plate._ He recalled. Why was he, a kid, even deserving of it?

“I charmed your new uniform, so you have a month or so to do whatever you want before your uniform slowly starts change to emerald. That way, no one will be able to trace what you did and those stupid desperate-to-be-emeralds won’t try and throw themselves off the fjord.” Lyre stretched her shoulders.

They jumped off the table, walking to where a tall golden door had appeared. Regulus used the short walk to recollect himself. He quickly walked over the recent events in his brain, organizing his thoughts and analyzing it. Despite his racing heart, he pulled his perfected fake smile on as they walked out.

They stood on the now snow covered fjord, a statue of what seemed to be a hammer stretching up as far as their eyes could see. The door had disappeared but he was sure that they had just walked out of the stone. He pressed his hands against it, the feeling of magic intoxicating his senses as he touched it despite the stone being solid and average.

“Mjölnir is the student’s safe haven, but only presents itself when truly needed.”

“Will you show me around the grounds now?” He questioned, as he raised his wand and opened a path as they walked towards the faint image of the castle. “I am still new to the school.”

“Tomorrow. We should get you settled in the dorms and tell everyone you managed to climb back up after slipping. It happened before.” She shrugged. The castle was closer now, she could almost feel it’s coldness. “It’s almost dinner time, I believe.”

He nodded, as they kept their walk in silence. Lyre lit two cigarettes on her lips, before handing one towards him. The heat of it warmed them slightly against the freezing weather. The snow around the path reached her knees and was unforgiving against their supposedly warm clothes. She knew it wouldn’t get much better in the castle, considering their hesitance on lighting fires for non-magical purposes.

As they finally reached the doors, the girl stopped and pulled a knife out of her sleeve. She forced it against her index finger until blood broke through the skin. Her fingertips scared from what Regulus could only assume to be from the practice. She hid her knife once more, while pressing the blood covered skin against the wooden doors. They opened wide for them, revealing dark marble floors and extravagant art adorned walls.

It seemed worthy of the richest royal families the more they delved into it’s halls. The portraits on the wall moved and seemed to whisper about him, about what had happened back at the Fjord of the Urd. Lyre rolled her eyes before telling them to shut it. His gaze fixed on the expensive art and decorations of the castle, in awe of such beauty. How did no one know of how stunning the Institute was on the inside? All they mentioned was the fact they taught Dark Arts and were so secretive. Why did beauty always came rewarded with danger and passion, deadly and ethereal?

He was so immersed by his surroundings that he barely noticed as the girl pulled out her staff and pushed it against a slight crack on the wall. It disappeared to reveal a dark passage, to which she dragged him into. Reg rolled his eyes as Lyre pulled onto his sleeve and lead him through the dark.

As they stopped in front of a wall, she let go of his sleeve.

“ _Mors vincit omnia_.” She spoke clearly as the door opened, revealing to be the back of a portrait. In front of them stood a dim lit room, filled with couches and tables. “Welcome to our commons.”

The girl jumped down into it, black curls falling softly on her hips as she greeted some of the students sat there. Regulus followed her tracks as she made her way to a dark corner, where her friends sat around a dark table. She pushed the boy he recognized as Moody to the side of the velvet covered bench and sat down. Two deep blue eyes fell onto him as he stood there, hand rubbing the back of his neck. Mikel rose from his seat and wrapped his arms around Reg in a bear hug. The boy was so much taller than him that his face stood pressed against the blond’s beating heart. They pulled away, as Mikel ruffled the younger boy’s hair.

“You managed to climb back up, eh?” The 7th year laughed, pulling the Black boy onto the seat with him. “We thought you died. Keeping Lyre away from you was a bitch. Pretty sure she colored my ribs black and purple.”

“Good.” The Lestrange answered in a cold tone, raising an eyebrow at the two of them.

Mikel kicked her under the table, just as she got up and Moody slid back onto his seat. The boy cursed under his breath, reaching across the table. He grabbed the boy’s blonde hair and slammed his head against the table once.

“Fucking wanker.” Moody laughed as Mikel grunted in pain.

The table roared with laughter as the two boys carried on discussing and hitting each other under the table. The group pulled Regulus into the conversation as time went by, Lyre having disappeared from the room. They made sure to explain to him the Institute’s structure and get to know what he liked, suggesting what they could do for the next two weeks of break.

Regulus smiled at them, noticing his childhood friend standing nearby a tall Christmas tree. The girl raised her head at him as an invitation, before he excused himself and made his way towards her. She held a small box on her hand covered in green silk. As soon as he stopped in front of her, she pushed it onto his hands.

“Happy birthday, Artie.” She whispered.

His fingers moved around to open the box with a smile. That damn smile. It was so rare to see it, especially in public. The blissful, genuine happiness on his face. She hadn’t forgotten. She never did. He pulled a ring and book from the box, observing them.

The ring was silver and thin, but burned against his skin. As he slipped it on, flames lit up from it, revealing the memory of a younger version of them. The fire danced around his fingers as he laughed at the scene. The flames disappeared as the ring remained eternally warm on his ring finger.

His attention shifted to the book in a black leather cover. He opened it, reading the title inside. _Magick Most Evile_. Reg raised an eyebrow at her, quickly putting the book away on his pocket.

“I know how much you appreciate fire, so I enchanted it to work as a pensive. Whatever you see, even as a dream, can be replayed. Just to your eyes or those you allow.” She shrugged as he pulled her into a hug. She inched her mouth closer to his ear, before whispering: “The book contains the darker spells recorded. I saw my father and the Dark Lord debating over it once, so I looked for a copy and changed to a bland cover. We should know our enemy better than we know ourselves.”

Regulus nodded, pulling away. His hands still around her arms as he relaxed. No one seemed to have listened to them.

“Thank you, Lyre. I love it.”

“Just a small gift, nothing to worry about, birthday boy.” She shoved him with a laugh, as they walked back to the table.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

The girl walked the empty corridors in dead silence, focusing on not making a sound not to alert the ghosts. Her bare feet took her towards the wall against her will, as if they had a life of their own. The coldness of the floor burned her feet red as she took the same path as always. The halls were dark with something more than night. She should have listened to Igor. Or at least taken a Dreamless Sleep potion to stop her. But now it was too late.

The intoxicating soft light flashed in front of her, poisonous and yet magnetic. Lyre sat right in front of the wall, finger moving to trace what it could reach of the symbol. _The Deathly Hallows_. She had been drawn to it ever since her first day, an unwilling obsession. Her parchment were filled by them, fingers tracing it onto skin throughout the day. As the whispering reached her ears, she felt the ghost of a smile on her face.

It told her of _his_ life, plans. _His experiments_ . The words projected bloodcurdling images onto her brain _,_ filling it with all the pain and knowledge. Her body shook as the nausea took over her, feeling as the spells _he_ used years ago had been cast on her all at once. Mind racing as it was all burnt into her brain. The excruciating pain forced her to push her hands to her hair, pulling the strands while pressing her ears shut. It didn’t stop the whispers, it never did. Her forehead trembling while forced against the symbol, a quiet giggle leaving her lips through the torture.

She just wanted it to stop. Tears running down her cheeks as she grit her teeth through the pain. Why did it call her? Every fucking night she found herself there, going through new memories and higher levels of torture until she couldn’t swallow her screams anymore. The first time, caused her to research it intensely until she found it. A copy of the book she had gifted Regulus earlier. It was so obvious after she read it. _His_ horcrux. Grindelwald’s fucking horcrux. Calling on her and draining her of energy, forcing her through his tortures until she was screaming loud enough for the Headmistress to come and take her to her office.

Lyre bit her lip, forcing her eyes shut. She couldn’t give him what he wanted. She wouldn’t scream. The taste of blood filled her mouth as a sharp wave of new spells hit her. It was always the same. The girl knew she would break her promise to herself every time the memory appeared in her mind, forcing to relive it from the victim's eyes. And as the sounds of her dead mother’s screams forced themselves onto her mind, she broke in.

A helpless scream left her throat, louder than ever before as she writhed on the floor. Terror thundered down on her, as her senses were numbed by the agony settled on her bones. Her vision blurred, breath caught on her throat as she heard Gellert’s laugh surrounding her before the Headmistress arms wrapped around her and pulled her away from his soul’s iron grip.


End file.
